White Knight, Black Pawn
by catherib
Summary: When a bloodless body shows up on Nat's table and it's not caused by a vampire, she needs Nick's help to discover the truth. Deliberately unfinished cliffhanger, will not be finished.


White Knight, Black Pawn  
  
Sidney meowed patiently on the floor at the foot of the bed for several minutes, then leaped on the bed, causing it to bounce up and down slightly. Natalie only shifted a little, drawing the covers around her and nearly knocking Sidney off the bed. All other wake-up calls ignored, a very hungry kitty used the fail-safe, guaranteed-to-get-food-RIGHT-NOW method: he climbed up and sat on her face.  
  
"...Mmm?...Mmphmm!! Agck! Ptui! Okay, okay, I'm up." Nat sat up, partly just to get Sidney off, and partly because he usually doesn't resort to drastic measures unless she *really* overslept. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she grabbed the clock by her bed and peered at it. 7:39. Yup, twenty minutes to be at the station, coherent and dressed. That would do it. She leaped out of bed, taking the fastest shower known to man, and sped all the way to the station, hoping to God that the cops were all on shift change too, and not stopping poor half-asleep coroners.  
  
Through some minor miracle, she managed to make it to work only about fifteen minutes late. As she stumbled through the door, Grace took one look at her, and disappeared for a few moments, returning with a still- steaming cup of coffee in one hand, a stack of files in the other.  
  
"So whadda we got tonight?" Natalie took the coffee first, and let Grace talk while she took a long swig, then squeaked and ran to the faucet for some cold water.  
  
"Male, 6'1", 180 pounds, name of Charles Madison, found in a dumpster off Spadina Avenue." Grace chuckled as Nat nursed her scorched tongue. "You're gonna love this one. He apparently came in around ten this morning, and Scott couldn't make heads or tails of it. He almost stayed overtime on your shift, just to see if you could figure it out."  
  
Oh damn. Not today. "What was it he couldn't make heads or tails of?" Grace moved to the body on the table, while Nat set her water down and followed, prepared to look properly confused and bewildered at whatever she might see.  
  
Grace flipped the sheet back, just enough to reveal the head and neck. Not terribly remarkable in any respect, if you didn't count the fact that half his face was caved in. As Natalie bent to inspect the wounds closer, Grace gave her the details. She knew them even as they were spoken. "Preliminary report shows victim sustained a blow to the face consistent with a person 5'4"-5'9" tall. And believe it or not, it's fist-sized." No wonder Scott was gibbering. She would have, too, at the sight of someone, not a small guy, who got half his face crushed from one punch. Especially since it was at the hand of someone who, for all they could tell, was at least four inches shorter than he, likely up to half a foot. Not possible. As far as he knew, anyway.  
  
But Grace wasn't finished. Also expected. "Cause of death: severe blood loss. But they don't have any idea where it is." Grace continued, snapping the file shut and handing it over. "The blood is just gone, and we can't find any wounds on the body that would result in so much blood loss. Even the face didn't bleed overly much. Weird, huh?"  
  
Natalie made her way back to her desk, the file spread out before her. No question what this was. The only problem being to find a convincing lie for Scott, since it'd already attracted his attention. As Grace went on to other things, her hand fell instinctively to the phone. But one question kept repeating through her mind... she put the phone back down and shuffled through the report till her eye caught the time of death. 7:30 am, a good half-hour after dawn. *What the...* Her hand fell to the phone again, and this time she *did* call. "Hi, Nick? It's Nat. Is Schanke there with you?"  
  
"Hmm? No, he's out grabbing a bite to eat. What's up?"  
  
"I want you to come over and take a look at our latest customer."  
  
"Why? What is it?" The concern in Nick's voice was well concealed for the appearance of normality, but she still heard it. She always did.  
  
She stared at the report some more, the time of death most of all. She shook her head slightly and frowned. "To be honest, I'm not sure."  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Nick was sitting on Natalie's desk, wearing an identical frown. Nat stood before him while he read through the report. "So you see why I would be confused. It seems obvious that he was killed by a vampire, but he didn't die until well after sunrise! It doesn't make sense!"  
  
Nick put down the folder and looked up at her with an impenetrable expression. "Half an hour after sunrise would mean that the sun probably hasn't topped most of the buildings... a good portion of the city is still in shade."  
  
Natalie shook her head, unconvinced. "But why wait so long? Why take so great a risk?"  
  
Nick simply stared at the floor...  
  
***  
  
(Athens, 1350) It was an unusually warm summer, the innkeeper had chatted while he took them to their rooms. He didn't blame them for staying indoors and out of the treacherous heat. Lacroix had smiled at that. "The sun can be terrible, can it not?"  
  
Janette and Nicholas complained about the heat, but Lacroix assured them it would be worth it in the end. As Nicholas wandered the streets aimlessly that evening, he smiled inwardly. Of course, Lacroix had been absolutely right. After a long day of sitting in humid, stuffy rooms, with no fresh air to speak of, the townspeople and neighboring villagers were out by the dozen after the sun had set, to do the shopping and chores that were simply too strenuous for daytime.  
  
And as he turned yet another corner, he saw her. She was beautiful, of course, but there were many others more striking than she. No, it was the straightness of her spine, the purpose of her gaze, the confidence of her walk... Nicholas slowed, and turned to follow her. She happened to glance his way, and met his eyes for a moment. They held not a trace of fear. He grinned in anticipation. It would be a good hunt.  
  
He played with her, catching her eye as he passed her, walking in the opposite direction, then doubling back and passing her again in the same way. She would see him behind her in the reflection off a pane of glass at a vendor's stand, motionless in the milling crowd, watching her. Yet when she turned, he was not there. For hours, the game progressed.  
  
To its inevitable conclusion. After two hours of not catching sight of him anywhere, she decided she had lost her pursuer, and to make sure he didn't recatch her, she took the beach route home, on the edge of the city. Keeping her eyes to the ground, she prayed not to be recognized for the few minutes more that it took to get home in safety. A sudden rush of wind blew up; so strange, it had been breathless for over a week. She raised her eyes for a moment, and there he was before her. She could do no more than gasp before his eyes were locked with hers, and her thoughts were overlapped with another's...  
  
Now fully in his thrall, Nicholas caressed her motionless cheek. The undisguised terror in her eyes almost made him laugh. Or cry. "Not quite so fearless..." His fingers came under her chin as he raised her face to look at him, and to get a better view of her neck. "Are you?" A seductive smile, wasted, as he ever so slowly leaned toward her, and took what she had to give.  
  
He had no idea how long they stood in that spot, locked together. It seemed but a moment. And maybe it was. But from one moment to the next, the sun rose.  
  
He screamed hoarsely, half in pure surprise, half in agony, as his skin blistered and scarred. He turned to search vainly for protection, the tiniest scrap of shadow from the sun, when one appeared before him. Grabbing him roughly by the waist, a heavily smoking and cursing Lacroix took to the air at lightning speed. Janette had simply left the window to their rooms open, and they barreled through.  
  
After pulling them both to one side, out of the sun's path, Lacroix took a step back and gave Nicholas a backhand full on the face, throwing him to the floor. "Idiot!" He kneeled and examined Nicholas' wounds. "You'll live. But you don't deserve to. Perhaps this will teach you to be more attentive next time." He moved to close the blinds as Janette appeared at Nicholas' side with a basin of cool water and bandages, and began to dab at his face.  
  
***  
  
Keeping his eyes on the floor, Nick replied to Natalie, "Sometimes vampires get too involved in the hunt, especially young ones. They can lose track of the time, and get stuck." He felt more than saw her questioning gaze. "It's been known to happen."  
  
He wouldn't meet her eyes.  
  
Nick got dressed for work the next night with resignation. He and Schanke had tried everything they could think of in the Madison case, but so far there were no leads. No one had been around at the time of the murder, none of the shops nearby were open yet, and the only thing conspicuous about the crime scene was the utter lack of clues. He was about to walk out the door when the phone rang.  
  
It was Schanke. "Get a move on, buddy boy, Natalie's been sitting on your desk for the past fifteen minutes. We got another one."  
  
On his way to the station, Nick switched on the radio.  
  
"The mind is such a curious thing. We think we control it, own it. We believe it to be our stronghold, our fortress against the outside world. Inside our own mind, we believe ourselves to be safe. And yet, the scientific world has tried repeatedly to delve into the subject, and has repeatedly failed. Its nature eludes us, even as we find solace there. The conscious mind is familiar, of course, we *are* our conscious minds, after all. But the subconscious? No one knows. It is the greater part of our mind, and stronger by far; given a post-hypnotic suggestion, the one is helpless to the whims of the other. Is it really you that is in control, in that case, do you think? And if not, who is it that's living in your mind? Or is it some soulless thing, that only does as it's told?" He paused, and the night closed in. His soft laughter whispered in the darkness. "Oh, every once in a while, we can influence our subconscious; there are always stories of women lifting automobiles to rescue their infants, and similar feats of strength or speed. But it is never through conscious thought. No one can fully control their own mind. And so far, no one has had the knowledge... or the means... to tap this wellspring of power in anyone else, either."  
  
"Yet."  
  
"So look inside yourselves, my children. Dare to probe the dark recesses of your soul. For there, you will find... the Nightcrawler."  
  
Nick switched the radio off.  
  
Natalie scanned the report as they walked through the doors into the morgue. "This is definitely the same killer. This time the victim suffered cracked ribs, and the bruising indicates he was held from behind. Same blood loss..." and she glanced at Nick meaningfully, "...same time period. But, there is a light at the end of this tunnel."  
  
Schanke was already dragging his feet. "Yeah, it's called a freight train. Man, we are *never* gonna finish this case with no clues."  
  
Natalie stopped in front of her desk. "Then look no more, Schank, cause I..." she paused to make sure they were at the edge of their seats, "got a skin sample." She grinned and waved a slide under their noses. "Found it under his fingernails right before I went to see you guys. I should have the results from the DNA test back in a couple days."  
  
"Awright! I'm gonna be home in time for dinner for once! I gotta call Myra..." Schanke was already halfway to the door. He turned and blew her a kiss. "Natalie, you're beautiful! Don't ever change! I'll see you two tomorrow!" And then he was gone, practically running down the hall.  
  
But as soon as Schanke was gone, Nat's smile faded. Anxious to get her new information off her chest, she immediately turned and whispered, "Nick, I ran a couple tests on this, and..."  
  
"And it's not a vampire." He nodded.  
  
"*And* I took a closer look at those holes in his neck, and they were definitely made by an instrument, not teeth. But how..."  
  
Despite himself, he grinned. "Lacroix's little soliloquy of the day was about the power of the subconscious."  
  
"Ah." She frowned thoughtfully. "Do you think he might know something we don't?"  
  
Nick got a wicked grin. "Of course." His voice got husky and low, making a fair imitation of Lacroix. He scrunched up, like a cat about to pounce. Nat lifted an eyebrow. "He *is*..." Nick sprang at Nat, catching her around the waist and spinning her around. Whispering seductively in her ear, "the *Nightcrawler*. He *always* knows." Nat giggled, and he smiled. His arms remaining loosely about her waist, he reasoned, "Well, one thing is for sure, he either does know something, or he wants me to think he does. I just need to find out which. Which means..."  
  
"You need to go to the Raven."  
  
"...I need to go to the Raven."  
  
The familiar throb of the Raven rose and crested over him as he made his way to the bar. Pausing to listen for a moment, Nick smiled in appreciation. Trust Janette to find a song that beat in time to the hearts around her. Always the elegant touch.  
  
He spotted her, leaning casually on the other end of the bar, watching the tide of vitality ebb and flow with the music. She turned to pick up her drink, and found Nick at her side, smiling down at her. "I like your taste in music."  
  
"Mmm, this song *is* the most popular... with both crowds." She smiled in satisfaction. "When I first heard it on the radio, I knew it would soon become a favorite. Some beats never die, non?" She glanced at his face, so wary and distracted as he watched the swirling crowd... her face remained studiously impassive, revealing not a single twinge of regret, at the passing of the moment. "But you are not here to critique my music." Setting her drink down, she turned to face him with complete attention. "What can I do for you?"  
  
Relieved that Janette had broken the ice, and guilty that there was ice to break, Nick related the facts of the case to her. "But Nicola, if you're so certain it is a mortal doing this killing, why come to me? I know no mortals."  
  
He smiled. "I know. But no mortal could have committed these crimes alone. We believe he may be a victim of a post-hypnotic suggestion, and from the loss of blood, we're guessing some kind of vampire involvement. I just wanted to know if you've noticed any unusual mortals around here, any new vampires in town, anything."  
  
Scorn dripping from her voice, she replied, "Nicola, why would any vampire resort to using a mortal to get their food? We have all we need here." She raised her glass, then glanced doubtfully at it. "It's not fine cuisine, to be sure, but your puppetmaster doesn't seem to be getting it straight from the neck, either." She took a sip from the glass before setting it back down. "Perhaps he or she has a higher motive? Perhaps it is not "who" you should ask, but "why"? Why would a vampire use a mortal to make killings he knew would be found out, since he chose an area known to be guarded by one of his own kind?"  
  
It took him only a moment. "Lacroix. Of course. I should have seen it from the moment I switched on the radio." A triumphant grin lit his face, and he bent to kiss her. "Thank you, Janette. I don't know what I would do without you."  
  
Her smile at his back was brittle, but it was all right. He hadn't looked back to see it. He never did. Janette turned again to watch the dancers, alone in a crowd, the colored lights reflecting in her eyes.  
  
Once outside the Raven, Nick ducked into a darkened alley, double-checked to make sure no one happened to be passing by, and took to the air. He started off slowly in the direction of CERK, to save his strength, but as he methodically went through all Lacroix had done in his mind, he began to fly faster, and faster. This situation was intolerable. He would have answers.  
  
Lacroix paused for a moment, as if listening for something. He stood, picked a reel from the shelves, and threaded it through the speaker, letting it play out the rest of his time slot. He sat back to wait, and a few minutes later Nick burst in, full of righteous fury, as always.  
  
"Lacroix, what is the meaning of these killings? I would have thought using a mortal to be beneath even you."  
  
Lacroix smiled indulgently. "Well, normally I would agree, but in this case, I found I simply could not resist the challenge."  
  
Knowing that gleam in his eye, Nick forced himself to relax and smile. He whispered conspiratorially, stepping closer as he spoke, "Who is he, Lacroix? Where is he going to strike next?"  
  
Lacroix's eyebrow shot up, and he laughed. "What makes you think I'm going to tell you anything?"  
  
Nick's smile never wavered. "Because you need to have something to gloat about afterward. Now tell me."  
  
Lacroix leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling for a moment, then just when Nick thought he wasn't going to tell him, he spoke. "Your precious killer will strike in..." he glanced at the clock, "about an hour, five blocks east of here." Nick turned to leave, glad to have the chance to catch this madman, no matter what the cost. Lacroix smiled to his back. "Don't be late."  
  
How Natalie managed to even *find* her keys in the abyss of her purse, she never could quite figure. It took all her mental effort just to make it all the way to the couch before collapsing on it, for just the tiniest minute, of course, before she had to go make dinner. Her right shoulder had started to ache halfway through the night, and now just wouldn't quit. She sighed. *Pain should respect working hours, just like I do. It should click in in the morning, click out in the evening, and doesn't get the option of overtime.* She opened her eyes to see Sydney on the floor next to the couch, waiting to be petted.  
  
"Sid, I really need a day job, y'know that? This whole night thing is just getting me down." Sydney meowed sympathetically, then jumped on her arm, which had been massaging her other shoulder. Natalie felt a sharp twinge of pain. "Yeowch! Hey, cat, watch where you step!" But her arm still throbbed, right where Sydney's back paws had hit. Not remembering running into any doors offhand, she sat up to check it out.  
  
When she rolled back her sleeve, to find a neat bandage she most certainly did *not* remember putting there. She lifted the bandage to find four long scratches, all in a row. They were far too wide for Sydney, in fact, they looked awfully like hand scratches. She lifted her other hand and tried to trace them, but they were just a little too wide for her, and not really at the right angle for her own hand. Her forehead creased as she stared at the four red marks. *What the bloody...?*  
  
Then, with a crash of utter certainty, she knew. She laid her hand over the scratches. They were too spread out to have been from her hands, but not for a man 6'1", 190 pounds... the second victim. The DNA sample.  
  
Oh my God.  
  
"Natalie..." She jerked around, to see Lacroix at her window. Her eyes grew wide, and, without knowing why, she clapped her hands over her head, and screamed at the top of her lungs, not out of fear, but to keep herself from hearing what came next. Lacroix waited until she took another breath, then whispered gently, "...hunt." 


End file.
